The Huntress
by Embrasia
Summary: Bold, fearless, & beautiful Mithian fights for independence during a time when women are expected to be seen & not heard. When Leon is assigned to protect her and they fall madly in love she realizes that she's at long last found her other half. The only problem is a big one... She's already married. Rated M for violence and smut :)
1. Daily Ritual Torture

**Author's Note: This was previously a bonus chapter for _House of the Rising Sun _but I decided to make it a fic of it's own. If you have read the bonus chapter already skip chapter 1. Sorry for the inconvenience and I hope you enjoy the story! :^)  
**

**-Embrasia-**

_Louisiana Mid 1800's..._

Daily Ritual Torture

It was 6:00am and the sun had barely risen. The ringing of the gigantic bell in the servant's quarters, symbolized another day of duty. Drea yawned, stretched, and climbed out of bed. There were no slaves on the Nemeth plantation. All the workers including the field hands were paid a small salary. But as a poor white maid, society didn't look upon Drea in much higher regard than her black counterparts. _It's going to be a very long day. _

Drea was, still exhausted after staying out with a man she had no business fancying. She looked around her tiny cabin and tissed. She didn't reside with family. She had none; however the other maids she roomed with had already gone to work. Of course they left without bothering to wake her in hope that she would oversleep and appear a bad employee. House servants, black and white, had the tendency to be ambitious.

Drea had to make haste. She quickly slipped on her black and white servants dress, and pulled her light brown tresses into a bonnet. She walked toward the mansion passing the mess hall on the way.

The more than one hundred field hands formed two lines for morning rations. Drea ate breakfast at a later time. She entered the mansion and walked directly to the small dining hall. She immediately began setting the table with fine china, crystal ware, and polished silver. The aroma drifting from the kitchen was magnificent. Mabel had probably been up since 5:00am preparing breakfast for the Nemeths. Drea glanced at the clock, 6:30am. _The Nemeths will be up soon. _

She hurried outside to pick fresh flowers for the center piece. After arranging the floral bouquet, she set out everyone's favorite breakfast sides: _strawberry syrup for Mithian's waffles, whipped cream and sliced fruit for Mistress Helen's and Lady Sophia's crapes, salt and pepper for Master Aredian's biscuits and gravy, and last but not least butter and raspberry jam for Bayard's toast._

Master Aredian Nemeth entered the dining room moments later.

"Good morning Sir. What can I get for you?" Drea asked the master of the estate.

"I think I'll have… the biscuits and gravy." Aredian told her.

_Surprise, surprise_, Drea smiled to herself as he took his place at the table. _Same seat, same breakfast, same reading material. _"Excellent choice Sir," She passed him the morning paper.

Aredian was stone faced and serious, and he never ever smiled. He spoke with a heavy southern drawl and had an all work no play mentality; likely the reason he'd gone completely gray by the young age of thirty-seven. The man emitted cold as if his heart pumped ice water through his veins and if you walked past him you would likely catch a chill.

The mistress, Helen Nemeth, appeared just minutes later, looking radiant as always. She was a striking woman with porcelain skin and silky tresses as black as a raven's wings. It was barely 7:00am and she was already so full of life. She was a social creature who found joy in hosting the most lavish parties for Louisiana's rich and powerful and she had a singing voice capable of enchanting an entire banquet hall, a voice the angels themselves listened to from heaven and envied. The Lady Helen came from a wealthy family in France and still spoke with an accent. She and her husband were both strong believers in order, tradition, and the separation of the classes. Appearances were everything to the Nemeths.

"Good morning. I'll have the usual." Helen called out cheerfully, her large gray eyes sparkling.

"Yes Ma'am." Drea replied.

Aredian rose as Helen entered the room, and pulled out her chair. She kissed her husband on the cheek and took a seat next to him.

Sophia, Mithian's wealthy royal cousin, sauntered into the hall and politely greeted Aredian and Helen. Mr. and Mrs. Nemeth were always positively elated when Sophia visited. She was everything they wished they had in a daughter. Before Drea could get a word out Sophia rambled off a food order with a nasty attitude. The young noblewoman flipped her long wavy amber colored tresses over her shoulder and took her place at the table. She detested Drea and most days did not even pretend to hide her contempt for the maid; leaving Drea to ponder day after day how she had wronged Sophia and what more she could do to please her lady. But every attempt Drea made was a failed one. The maid simply couldn't do anything right in Sophia's eyes.

Mithian walked in yawning and rubbing her eyes. She was still wearing her night gown.

Helen was appalled, "Mithian you will eat properly or not at all! Go change your clothes at once."

Mithian stomped back upstairs to her bedroom. Mithian inherited her mother's beautiful looks, but none of Helen's lady-like charm, grace, and sophistication. Since the moment Mithian could walk she served as a constant source of embarrassment, frustration, and disappointment for her parents.

Sophia rolled her eyes with an exasperated breath at her younger cousin's behavior, "I swear the more I try to teach that boorish girl the dumber she gets."

Bayard grit his teeth as he entered, _Why is Sophia always hurling insults?_ He had his father's handsome looks but did not inherit his chilly disposition. Bayard possessed chestnut hair that came just passed his shoulders and was usually tied back with a black ribbon. Bayard gave a greeting and a nod to each relative, "Mom, Dad, Satan."

"Ha ha very funny," Sophia huffed at her cousin's typical comparison of her to the devil.

Aredian chastised his son immediately, "That was highly inappropriate Bayard. Apologize this instant."

Bayard fumed. _Sophia insults my sister and I'm the one who has to apologize!_ He positively adored his little sister and his mother and father were always so hard on her

"Sorry Sophia" Bayard grumbled.

She smiled pleased with herself to hear him grovel. Sophia hated visiting America and hated her parents even worse for forcing her to.

"Where's Mithian going?" Bayard questioned.

"She was sent to her room for coming down in her sleep attire. That girl will never fetch a decent husband, behaving the way she does." Aredian grumbled.

"Decent husband? She's twelve." Bayard protested.

"Twelve or not, she must learn to behave like a proper lady." Helen informed him.

"I couldn't agree more," Sophia added her two cents.

"Good morning young Master Nemeth. What will it be?" Drea asked dutifully.

Bayard's jaw dropped but he quickly recovered. He had to keep his composure in front of his family._ Drea had no problem calling me by name as I pulled her panties off with my teeth. And now I'm 'young master Nemeth'._

"May I take your order Sir," She repeated as if they hadn't made love mere hours ago.

"The same," Bayard informed her warmly. He looked at Drea and she refused to meet his gaze. He fiddled with his napkin amazed by the difference just a few hours had made. _Just last night she was in my arms, and now she's addressing me formally and wearing that awful black gown. Of course it flatters her. What doesn't? But I hate that serving dress none the less. It's an ever present reminder that she's unattainable. _He gave her a coy smile begging for one in return. He loved her beautiful smile most and it would prove a simple but heartfelt gesture that said last night meant as much to her as it did to him.

But Drea did not oblige her lover. _I was ruined by a rich boy like you, who used me without a conscious until it was time to consider a "proper" mate. But I learned an important lesson through my heartache: never blur the line, never invest feelings in a man above your station because he will not invest feelings in you._ She returned to the kitchen to complete her duties giving Bayard a shoulder so cold that he could see his breath fog the air.

_It's as if last night never happened. _He sighed ruefully and excused himself from the table without looking back at the lover who'd become a cold and indifferent servant to him overnight.

xXx

_Daily Ritual Torture_

Bayard made his way up two flights of stairs and down a very long corridor to check on his sister. Mithian and Bayard weren't blood relatives but you wouldn't be able to tell by the way he cared for her. Mithian's birth father, a man by the name of Rodor, died when she was little more than five. And Bayard's own mom passed from childbed fever when he was just four days old. Aredian had been Mithian's father most of her life so she called him papa and treated him as such. And Helen was the only mother Bayard had ever known; he would become furious and immediately correct anyone who called Helen his stepmom or Mithian his stepsister. They were family plain and simple. Aredian didn't tolerate the step terms either. He was equally stern and unwavering with both offspring. Mithian was his daughter and that was just that.

Bayard sighed as he at last reached her door._ Poor Mithian is just getting over a terrible bout of strep throat. She probably just wanted to eat one measly meal in peace and comfort with her family. And Ma and Pa acted as if she committed murder._

He knocked thrice, "Mithian are you alright."

"She isn't decent," Mithian's maids called in response to the knock on her door as they fussed with her hair and makeup and yanked the strings of her corset so hard Mithian thought she would lose consciousness. This strangulating garment often left red marks and bruises on her creamy white skin, which was stubborn and refused to tan despite the intense southern heat.

"I said she isn't decent!" Snapped a portly gray-haired maid at the sound of another knock.

"I don't care!" yelled the manly voice from the other side of the door.

"Its just my brother," Mithian assured them with a gasp barely able to breathe inside the iron grip of her corset. She wheezed. "Come in Bayard."

The maids were appalled but not surprised at Mithian's brashness. The essentials were well covered but for Mithian to allow a gentleman into her chamber without being in full dress was highly inappropriate, even if that gentleman was her brother. A chambermaid returned to ripping rogue hairs from Mithian's eyebrows while ignoring her yelps of pain. Another spread a sticky paste derived from honey on each of Mithian's knuckles. The woman laid thin strips of material over the paste and without warning, care, or consideration she ripped the fine blonde hairs from Mithian's hands.

"Owe!" Mithian yelled.

"Would you stop that!" Bayard ordered the maids at the sight of his sisters red puffy eyebrows and fingers. "What little hair exists isn't even noticeable!"

"Sorry, Mistress' orders," A dark-skinned maid grinned delightfully as she ripped the hair from another of Mithian's fingers.

The maids didn't care for the young Nemeth girl, in fact all but Drea thoroughly disliked her. Every time Mithian presented herself in a poor light to her parents it unintentionally made the serving girls responsible for her look bad. They were reprimanded regularly because of Mithian's rather boyish behavior and they braced any opportunity to cause her pain or discomfort.

"It's okay," Mithian said sheepishly closing her eyes and breathing away the pain so her brother wouldn't worry. She met Bayard's eyes as she spoke in her country accent, "I'm sorry about breakfast. Momma and daddy are right you know."

"No they're not," Bayard said sternly. "You are a wonderful person Mithian. And one day some lucky man will love you for who you are and steal you away from your big brother." His voice sounded a little sad at the last bit.

"Never," Mithian happily declared as the maids continued to treat her like some object for display, polishing her up to meet society's and her mother's approval. "I love ya Bayard."

"Back at ya sis," He placed a hand at each side of her face and dropped a brotherly peck on one sore red brow and then the other. She could feel her headache melting away and the sense of relief and serenity on her face brought a smile to his. He flexed his bicep, "Now who's my big strong girl?" She responded with a flex of her own arms.

When he was certain Mithian was fine he left her to her daily ritual torture; and he returned to the dining hall to be ignored by the woman he loved.

xXx

_The Huntress_

_Where is Sophia when you need her? _Lady Helen thought as she sat in the elegant parlor with Alvarr Arrington and his fifteen-year-old brother Leon. _My niece is well versed in literature, world history and the arts. She displays all the proper etiquette of a lady of the French court. She's just who I need at the moment to entertain our young guests._

Aredian had made his son Bayard take Lady Sophia for an afternoon ride to make up for the rude comment at the breakfast table. There was no telling when they would return. And Aredian himself left briefly on business. This left only Mistress Helen and her wayward daughter Mithian to entertain the Arrington brothers. The young men walked in and Mithian could not have felt more uncomfortable and out of place. She was actually clean for once, and Mistress Helen forced her into one of Sophia's elegant purple gowns. Mithian had no nice gowns of her own. She was hard on dresses and her father refused to continue wasting money on designer gowns for her to destroy.

Alvarr & Leon Arrington were dashing beaus whose family bled money. But other than their lofty height and chin length sandy brown curls the two brothers couldn't have been more different. Alvarr, the oldest, was charming and charismatic; he'd always been the life of the party, and people followed him as if he was the pied piper. He was an indiscriminant bed hopper without a care as to the trail of shattered hearts he left behind. While Leon, on the other hand, was quiet and reserved and usually avoided social gatherings. He wasn't much of a drinker, nor did he have meaningless romps with random women like many men of his class. Through marriage they were kinsmen of the French ambassador, Count Cenred, and often conducted business on his behalf. But today they were here on personal matters.

Alvarr took a sip from his glass and laid out his proposition. "My father has fallen deathly ill and is not expected to recover. He relinquished his title of Secretary of Defense and foreign affairs to me for this reason. My Aunt planned a gathering for tonight to announce the passing of this title. Foreign officials, local representatives, and even the president of these United States are expected to show up in a matter of hours. Thanks to last night's storm, there is an enormous oak tree lying in our grand ballroom. This damage will take weeks to repair. You have a reputation for putting together this town's most lavish parties. I thought it would be a smashing idea if you would do me the honor of hosting this evening's event."

Helen's eyes lit up like stars. _This would be the grandest event the state of Louisiana's ever seen. _

"We'll do it." Mistress Helen announced barely able to maintain her composure.

Alvarr passed Helen the guest list and seating arrangement. "Thank you for extending a hand in our greatest time of need. You will be greatly compensated."

"I'll just pass these on to my head chef." The Mistress said delighted.

Leon stormed out of the room and Alvarr walked out after him.

"Leontes, you're being rude." Alvarr chastised him.

"Our father is dying! I'm sorry I don't feel that's a cause for a celebration." Leon growled in aggravation.

Alvarr gave his brother a supportive hand on the shoulder. "I don't like it anymore than you do. I feel this whole idea is rubbish, but its tradition. You know Aunt Katrina won't allow this to rest. Let's just get it over with."

Alvarr and Leon weren't from the south but they spent every summer in Louisiana with their aunt the Countess Katrina and her husband Count Cenred.

"That woman is such a troll," Leon grumbled. "You would think she would give a shit about the pending doom of her own brother."

"Yes… You would think."

Leon drew in a deep breath, "But you are right Alvarr. She'll never let this go so let's just get on with it."

They walked back into the parlor.

"Is everything alright?" The Mistress asked.

"Our father's dying. It's been a long week for him." Alvarr answered, knowing that it had been a long week for both of them.

Alvarr had the ability to be charming and charismatic under any circumstances. This rare capability was a gift because no one ever knew when he was suffering, but it was also a curse for the same reason.

"How about, you add an item to the menu. It can be anything you desire." The Mistress offered.

Leon pondered for a while. "Deer, my father loved deer. I haven't eaten it in ages."

Mistress Helen smiled, "I'll send my servant Aaron. He's an accomplished marksmen the best hunter I've ever seen."

Alvarr thought for a moment then told Leon. "You should accompany him. You always enjoyed hunting with father. It may help take your mind off of things."

Leon agreed and the mistress said. "Mithian, please show young Mr. Arrington to the hunting lodge."

"Right this way" Mithian said and led Leon up the corridor and down the cement steps.

She walked through the lumber yard and called out. "Aaron! You've been summoned for a hunt!"

The handsome brown-skinned man dropped his axe and jogged over to Mithian and Leon. "What game are we hunting?" Aaron asked as they headed toward the lodge.

"Wild bucks, we'll need two of them to serve the guests this evening." Leon answered.

The hunting lodge was a spacious log cabin, built in the shape of a pyramid. The inside walls were line with the heads of moose, and bucks. A bearskin rug lay stretched out in front of an elegant stone fireplace. Various animal hides decorated the backs of the chairs and couches. There was a table designed especially for skinning and filleting. More than thirty rifles stood on display.

"This place is a hunter's dream." Leon said as he stepped in and marveled at the structure. The beautifully crafted crossbow caught his eye immediately. He picked it up and aimed it almost drooling over the weapon, "This is a thing of beauty, a limited edition S.R. It must be carved from fifty year old ash."

"That it is, good sir," Mithian smiled pleasantly at the boy's vast knowledge of weaponry. "You certainly know your crossbows."

She was a pretty girl but when she smiled it was as if her entire face was transformed. She was a dream, a beautiful dream, and Leon nervously ran his fingers through his sand colored curls just praying for the words to make her smile again.

When he didn't respond to her flattery she figured she might have gone too far. She sought to end the awkward silence by changing the subject. "Aaron made most of these kills you see."

Leon gave an impressed nod as he admired all the pelts and horns and mounted heads. He turned back to Mithian, watching as she admired the weapons herself. He wondered why she hadn't left as soon as she brought him to the lodge, but he was grateful that she hadn't.

Aaron noticed Leon's gaze lingering a bit too long and the huntsman cleared his throat "You can change in the room over there Sir."

"Oh um… thank you," Leon stammered as he tore his eyes away from Mithian.

Leon threw on a green safari shirt with short sleeves and numerous pockets, His tan colored breeches were the usual hunting style: loose at the thighs and fitting around the lower legs. He wore tall black boots that came clear up to his calves and a safari hat with a brim at the front and back. Leon walked out of the room in shock to see Mithian dressed in the same attire he was. She had discarded the beautiful purple dress she was wearing, and glanced over the gun rack for the rifle of her choice.

"You couldn't possibly be coming with us." Leon announced, now aware of the reason she didn't leave right away.

Mithian grinned. "You know when I said that Aaron made the majority of these kills. Well I made a few of them as well."

Leon scoffed. "There's no way I'm taking a woman hunting."

Mithian fumed taking offence to this rather arrogant sexist male.

She'd never been a dolls and needlepoint kind of girl. Much to her mother's dismay Mithian's birth father use to take her hunting; one of the many things Mithian missed about Rodor. She had a competitive nature, the spirit of a hunter and Rodor not only accepted this about her, he encouraged it.

Mithian raised an impatient brow and pursed her soft pink lips, "I'll bet you two weeks allowance that I take down a bigger deer than you do."

"Since only two kills are needed I'll serve as your guide this afternoon." Aaron said with a respectful nod and led them to the woods.

"How old are you?" Leon asked still a little bewildered.

"I'll be thirteen tomorrow." Mithian chimed in as she tracked through the woods with the rifle on her shoulder.

"Why is it that I didn't merit an invitation to your coming out party?" Leon asked.

Mithian laughed. "I'm not having one."

Leon glared at the beautiful huntress with a look of utter confusion. "How else will you be introduced into society? How will you meet suitors? How will you marry? How will you settle?"

Mithian grinned like a vixen. "I never planned upon settling. I want to travel and see the world. I want to hunt the biggest most dangerous game on every continent. You can't find ammunition around these parts for the kind of beasts I'm going to hunt. I intend to have a life of adventure."

xXx

Gaius, the town physician, had just finished wrapping a splint around the arm of a child whose parents worked for the Nemeths. The mother sat on a stool at the head of the bed. She blotted her daughter's forehead with a cool towel, and hummed to her.

"Thank you doctor," The woman called to him.

"It was no problem at all," Gaius assured her.

He had just stepped out when Leon Arrington came running at full speed toward him.

Leon heaved to catch his breath, and shouted in a panic. "There's been an accident! Mithian's hurt!"

The two of them ran as fast as their feet would carry them. They found Aaron in the woods kneeling over Mithian's unconscious body. Aaron scrambled frantically to stop the blood. There was so much blood…

**Thank you for reading Chapter 1. Suggestions, comments, and questions are always welcome :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	2. Sandy Brown Curls

Sandy Brown Curls

Mithian regained consciousness hours later. She opened her eyes and glanced around her bedroom. Dr. Gaius examined her while Bayard and Leon stood watch. They were all dressed in tuxedos and she was still wearing her hunting clothes. Alvarr's party had just begun. She could smell the feast and hear the elegant string instruments all the way upstairs.

Gaius put on his glasses and inspected the stitches on her forehead. He turned and spoke to Bayard. "These sutures are the best I've ever done. There should be very little scarring."

"Thank you doctor." Bayard replied.

Gaius nodded and continued his examination, "One pupil is clearly dilated more than the other. She has a minor concussion but she'll be fine in a short while."

The doctor placed his instruments back into their bag.

"But there was so much blood." Bayard replied.

"Head wounds have the tendency to bleed profusely. She should be back on her feet in a matter of days." Gaius explained as he rose and walked toward the door.

"Thanks for everything." Bayard said to him.

"You're more than welcome," Gaius replied as he left the room.

Mithian sat up in her bed and groaned. "What happened?"

Leon came over to explain. "You forgot to anchor the butt of the rifle in your shoulder to absorb the recoil. When you aimed and fired, the scope of the gun flew back and bonked you on the forehead."

Mithian laughed. "Well did I at least get the deer?"

"You gave yourself a concussion and all you're concerned about is whether or not you got the deer." Bayard scolded playfully, and then flexed his bicep. "Who's my big strong girl?"

Mithian answered with a flex of her arms.

Leon replied excitedly. "You got it clean through the heart. It had to have been the largest buck I've ever seen. It must've had sixteen points on its antlers."

"Did you get your kill?" Mithian inquired ecstatically.

"Yes, however it wasn't nearly as grand as yours." Leon answered.

"I'll give you two a moment," Bayard offered and stepped into the corridor. _Its the least I can do. Leon's been asking about her all evening._

Mithian smiled up at Leon's adorable face framed by a curtain of sandy brown curls and without so much as a command from her brain. She gingerly twirled her fingers in his silky spring like tresses.

"I can honestly say I'm jealous," She jested in reference to his beautiful locks which made the quiet Leon turn several shades of rouge as he cast his eyes down and away from her. "May I braid it?"

"Of course my lady," Leon offered in a voice little more than a shy whisper.

Mithian began to weave three stands of hair into a braid but snatched her hands away from Leon as Mistress Helen stormed into the bedroom, "Mithian what have you to say for yourself?"

Mithian grinned and shrugged, "Venison anyone?"

Bayard and Leon laughed hysterically, but the mistress didn't find Mithian's remark the least bit amusing.

Bayard pulled Leon away and said. "Believe me. You don't want to be present for this."

Leon wanted to say something to Mithian, anything, but as always he couldn't find the words. He winced as he snatched the thin braid from his hair and passed it to a surprised Mithian. He filed out of the room while she twirled her nimble fingers around the braid smiling softly to herself.

The men returned to the party while Mistress Helen berated Mithian. "You put on a ghastly display today: running about the forest and making a spectacle of yourself. And what in the world are you doing wearing trousers?! This is highly inappropriate. You can see the entire form of your legs and hips! Ladies are not to wear pants!"

Mithian snapped back at her mother. "Would you rather I had gone hunting in a dress, which may have been easily snagged? If the beast had charged me, I may not have gotten away in a big fancy gown."

"We would've rather you not gone hunting at all!" Her father shouted in frustration as he barged into the room. "You are a girl Mithian! A girl! How many times must I tell you that you're a girl?!"

xXx

Downstairs amidst the extravagant ball Count Cenred mingled with the guests. He was handsome, regal, and possessed wealth that most could only dream about but he never stopped lusting for more. His latest get richer quick scheme found him dabbling in the American slave trade. He and Katrina owned the largest tobacco plantation of African slaves in Louisiana, possibly the whole of the United States.

"May I have this dance," He extended a hand to his half sister who had been shooting him daggers all evening.

The lovely maiden with honey colored skin and hazel eyes grudgingly accepted and the two began their elegant waltz, twirling amongst the many prancing couples.

"You can't be mad at me forever Ladonna," Cenred spoke charmingly as they danced.

"I can try," She told him sternly. "How can you claim me as your sister and your equal and then own my people?"

"These African American slaves are not your people," Cenred explained in good spirits without missing a single graceful step. _I will not allow my self-righteous sibling to get my temper brewing tonight._ "You are French Ladonna and descended from a race of wealthy European Mores, a black debutant; not an African American slave. As was my stepmother before you. God rest her wonderful soul."

"Justify it any way you want but Mother is turning in her grave right now," Ladonna protested. "And as for the people you don't believe I should identify with, both they and I are ultimately from the same continent of dark-skinned peoples. I am no better than them merely because my ancestors migrated to Europe ages ago and theirs were unfortunate enough to be kidnapped and shipped here."

Cenred nearly ground his molars to dust at her defiance. If Ladonna was his slave she would have tasted the backside of his hand and once she picked herself up off the floor she would have known to never speak to him in such a chastising manner. But she was not his slave. She was his sister, his blood. And insolent or not, he loved her just as he loved her mother.

Cenred growled between clenched teeth, "These slaves are not your people."

"But they are people," She reminded him gently, her tone humbling with the knowledge of his anger, "How long do you believe you can take advantage of a system of inequality before it comes back to bite you? There's always a price brother. What are you willing to pay? What are you willing to lose?"

"Ladonna!" Cenred whisper-yelled, "Have I not given you all?"

"That you have dear brother," Her hazel eyes became misty as they took a graceful bow at the end of their dance. She kissed both his cheeks ceremoniously and whispered with concern as if her heart was breaking, "You have given me all Cenred. One could not ask for a better brother, but what profit a man to gain the world and lose his soul?"

xXx

Katrina whispered to her nephew Alvarr as they circled the perimeter of the ball, arm in arm, "You're going to be filthy rich. The least you could do is look happy about it."

Alvarr solemnly replied, "I'm not ready for marriage."

"Well there is no getting out of it," Katrina snapped without abandoning her graceful demeanor. "Did you bring Enmyria's engagement present?"

Alvarr lifted the small black box so that Countess Katrina could see it but the scowl remained on his face.

Katrina announced with frustration, "Enmyria is not only rich. She's well educated, and drop dead gorgeous. What is your problem Alvarr?"

Leon interjected as he approached, "He's not sure he's giving that ring to the right girl."

Katrina gasped, "Of course he's sure. Tell him you're sure Alvarr!"

Alvarr couldn't hear anyone else. He was encompassed by his own rage, "Drea is fucking Bayard! I know it! I can tell by the way she looks at him or doesn't look at him."

Cenred stormed up to them, "Please tell me this isn't about that damn chambermaid! Get your head together Alvarr! If you mess things up with Enmyria I swear I'll ring your neck!"

Katrina gingerly placed a hand on Cenred's cheek. It soothed him like a savage beast.

"I'll talk to him uncle," Leon said as he pulled his brother away from Cenred. Leon informed his brother, "Relax Alvarr after all that's happened Drea will probably avoid you at all costs. She resigned from her position at our estate to be rid of you. Why would she have harsh words for you now?"

"But that's just it. I don't want her to avoid me at all costs." Alvarr fumed bitterly. "This isn't fair." He pouted almost childishly which infuriated the usually mellow Leon.

"What isn't fair is the manner in which you used that girl and tossed her out like yesterday's garbage and now that she's someone else's you want her back."

"How dare you!" Alvarr growled. "I loved Drea!"

"Then why were you having sex a whole lot more than she was?" Leon rebutted. "You are my big bro, my comrade in arms, but you only love a woman as long as you can't have her; and once you get her you take her for granted. If you truly love Drea you will not seek to destroy her relationship with Bayard. You will allow her something she didn't have with you: happiness."

Alvarr moved to explain himself but couldn't. There was no excuse for his behavior. "You self righteous little prick."

"I'm only saying these things to help you. I don't want to see you get hurt again," Leon explained with a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. _But you are selfish Alvarr and you need to grow up._

xXx

As the end of the night approached, Mistress Helen and Sophia escorted the Arrington's outside. The gravel plot in front of the mansion was covered in horse drawn carriages, only this time the passengers climbing aboard were statesmen and European royalty. They walked toward the stagecoach where Countess Katrina and Count Cenred stood. Katrina was a beautiful older woman with cinnamon colored hair and a heavy French accent that American men half her age flipped for. But Katrina only loved two things: Cenred and money, and not in that order. Her paper thin lips parted in a smile as she said. "Your niece is a lovely young woman Mistress Helen and as always we had a splendid time. It was truly remarkable the way you pulled the whole thing together on such short notice. I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

Mistress Helen beamed. "It was no trouble at all. It's been an honor to host your party."

"Thank you once again Mistress Helen. I'm certain you'll find the payment agreeable." Alvarr said as he passed Helen a small black velvet sack. Then he boarded the stagecoach.

Countess Katrina turned to Sophia and said. "I appreciate the manner in which you kept my youngest nephew company, the entire evening. I haven't seen Leon smile like that since before his father fell ill."

Sophia gave Countess Katrina a charming smile, "The pleasure was all mine, I rather enjoyed his company."

Lady Katrina smiled once more at Sophia before boarding the stagecoach.

Leon kissed Sophia's hand and said. "I had a lovely time. Thank you."

He turned to Mistress Helen and asked. "May I trouble you to return tomorrow afternoon?"

Mistress Helen grinned brightly. "It would be no trouble at all. You're always welcome in our home."

Leon climbed into the stagecoach and it pulled away. Sophia watched the carriage disappear with a triumphant grin. _I never cease to amaze myself. I managed to snag an Arrington. I could've probably taken the eldest had he not already been betrothed._

The Countess Katrina asked Leon as their carriage bounced down the gravel path, "So what did you think of Sophia?"

"She was nice," Leon said noncommittally.

A cunning smirk braced Katrina's lips. _Sophia is more than nice dear nephew. She's royalty and I will see to it that she is your bride… _

**Thanks for reading chapter 2 :^)**

**-Embrasia-**


	3. Vendetta

**Author's Note: If you have not read House of the Rising Sun but you intend to please do not read this chapter. There are spoilers :^)**

**-Embrasia-**

Vendetta

The frost covered grass crunched beneath Aaron's tattered shoes as he ran full speed ahead to the big house. He burst through the back door of the mansion ignoring the chastising hollers of the butler and Matriarch. Aaron skid to a stop at Bayard's door. He intruded without a knock.

Bayard shot straight up in bed, "Aaron what's gotten into you!"

"Come quick! Jarl Brenner has your sister!"

Bayard leapt out of bed at the sound of Jarl's name. _Jarl is a tyrant that works full time for Uther Pendragon and part time for us. Jarl is cruel and a bully and if he's harmed so much as a hair on Mithian's head I swear on everything holy I will make him rue the day he was born! _ Bayard sped downstairs in just his sleeping pants. He ran out the front door after Aaron. There they found Jarl trudging toward the horse drawn carriage with Mithian tossed over his shoulder.

Mithian screamed and pounded on Jarl's back with her fists. "No! I won't do it. No!"

"Drop my sister this instant!" Bayard demanded.

Jarl ignored him and kept walking.

Bayard ran down the front steps and yelled, "I'll only tell you once more to take your hands off of her!"

"Or you'll do what," Jarl snapped.

Bayard reared back and punched Jarl in the face.

Jarl released Mithian and shouted. "Hey I'm just following orders!"

"Who's orders?!" Bayard demanded.

Jarl wiped the spot of blood from the corner of his mouth, "Your parents'."

At that moment Master and Mistress Nemeth appeared on the porch.

Mithian stood before Bayard pleading through choked sobs. "Please don't allow them to send me away."

Aredian walked over and boomed in a frustrated voice. "She's going to France with her aunt and uncle. She'll learn proper etiquette, and receive an exceptional education. Count Julius even intends to find her a suitable husband since she's ruined all her prospects here."

His mother called from the porch. "We're only trying to do what's best for her. I only pray my sister and brother-in-law will succeed where we have failed. Whether you like it or not she's going to France!"

Bayard pushed Mithian behind him and replied, "Over my cold rotting corpse! I can't believe you would ship off your only daughter like a crate of cargo, and on her birthday no less. For what, to transform her into another Sophia?"

Master Aredian replied. "You won't always be around. The moment you lose sight of her, she's going. She'll have a safer trip with her aunt and uncle."

Mithian realized her father was right. She was only postponing the inevitable. She wiped the tears from her face, and stepped out from behind her brother. Mithian hugged Bayard and boarded the stagecoach with the Demoniets. Aaron climbed into the chauffeur's seat and cracked the whip in the air. The horses broke into a trot. As the carriage pulled away Mithian watched her brother through the window. She forced a smile for him and flexed her muscles. Bayard raised an arm and flexed his back. The carriage disappeared and Bayard sat down on the cement stairs defeated.

Master Aredian sat down next to him. "You must think we're terrible people."

Bayard didn't respond. _How could you do this to my sister?!_

They both rose when they saw the Arrington stagecoach coming toward the mansion. It pulled up in front of the steps and Leon Arrington climbed out with a white box.

Mistress Helen sauntered down the steps smiling cheerfully. "My niece Sophia will be delighted to know you're here."

The mistress turned to send one of the servants for Sophia but she was already standing in the doorway.

Sophia walked gracefully down the front steps, already in full dress, makeup, and jewelry at seven o'clock in the morning. "I've been looking forward to your visit."

Leon cast a confused glare. "I came here today to call on Mithian."

Dumbfounded expressions covered the faces of Bayard's parents and Sophia. Bayard grinned delightfully at the sight of Sophia's humongous ego being deflated with a quill of humility. She'd been bested, and by her younger unruly cousin at that.

"This cannot be happening," Sophia whisper yelled to her Aunt.

"Sophia dear," Helen tried to comfort her.

Sophia yelled back over her shoulder as she picked up her heavy skirts and stormed down the corridor, "What planet did I wake up on this morning where a man would choose Mithian over me! I hate this country! I want to go home!"

Aredian and Helen took off after their humiliated and disgruntled niece.

"I'm sorry," Leon called after the three of them but his apology fell upon deaf ears. He turned back to Bayard, "I didn't mean to cause a stir but Sophia assumed I was coming to call on her. I never told her that."

"It okay," Bayard assured Leon and led him to the horse stable. "You just missed Mithian. If you take the Indian trail through the woods you may be able to cross her path before they reach the docks."

Bayard quickly saddled a black horse and continued. "Your stagecoach is too large for the trail. You'll have to make the journey horseback."

Leon threw his foot in the stirrup and flung himself onto the saddle.

He glanced down at Bayard from atop the horse and gave a nod. "Thank you."

Leon took off through the servant's quarters and reached the forest. He found the trail Leon mentioned and raced down it. The horse galloped through the forest until the trail ended.

Leon stopped in the middle of a road. His horse reared up on its hind legs. It neighed with ear shattering intensity as Mithian's carriage came barreling down the street. Aaron looked up with surprise, his heart pounding. He brought the carriage to a screeching halt.

The Demoniets and Mithian climbed out of the carriage, and Leon climbed down from his horse.

Count Julius Demoniet scolded Leon, "You stupid boy! You might have gotten yourself killed just now. What have you to say for yourself?"

Leon smiled shyly at Mithian and passed her the white box, "Happy Birthday."

Mithian's face lit up with a smile as she threw her arms around him.

"Promise me you'll write." Leon said.

"Everyday" Mithian replied as she climbed back into the carriage.

Leon climbed back on his horse and the stagecoach pulled away once more.

Mithian waved goodbye through the window as her uncle continued to rant. "That boy could've been trampled, and for what, to give you a box of chocolates. You don't even like flowers or chocolates."

Mithian blocked out her uncle's complaints and opened the white box. A small note sat on top of the contents.

_Dear Mithian,_

_You're the most remarkable girl I've ever met. I searched three cities for a gift I thought you would enjoy. I hope you find it to your liking. Happy 13__th__ Birthday._

_Yours truly,_

_Sandy Brown Curls_

Mithian set aside the letter and laughed when she saw the contents of the box. _Large game ammunition, Leon I think I love you..._

xXx

Alvarr strolled through the aisles of the lush high hedged gardens of the French Embassy. Leon had lectured his brother until Alvarr agreed to meet with Bayard this afternoon. Leon was the younger of the two but some days you wouldn't be able to tell from their interactions. Leon felt his big brother was being immature and Alvarr's jealously over Drea would only ruin his chances with Enmyria. Leon figured squashing this feud between Bayard and Alvarr would be a step in the right direction for Alvarr.

Alvarr huffed in frustration as he paced the garden with his brother, "I can't believe you think I'm selfish when it was Bayard who betrayed me! What's so wrong with having casual encounters with women as long as you don't promise them anything? I never made Drea any promises and still she leaves me for Bayard!"

"It's wrong to touch a girl unless you're serious about her," Leon rebutted.

"Serious or not, as long as you're honest about your intentions no one gets hurt," Alvarr said in his own defense.

"If that's the case then why is your heart broken and your friendship with Bayard in shambles?" Leon rebutted. "Its wrong to string a person along. I don't care how honest you are being with them."

"I'm going to need twenty pieces of silver," Bayard joked as he approached Alvarr, but his friend was not amused.

"I'll leave you two alone," Leon made his way back to the embassy praying that the friends could settle their differences.

"Come on Alvarr," Bayard pleaded. "I feel like Judas! There I've said it! I feel like Judas."

Alvarr broke his bitter silence at last, "How could you lay with Drea? How could you?!"

"I love her," Bayard confessed before his mind could catch up with his mouth. This admission shocked him even more than his jealous friend. _Holy shit I love her… _"Alvarr you are my right hand but Drea is my heart. I yearn not to gain her love at the expense of losing yours."

Alvarr brooded and pouted almost childishly, "We're supposed to be friends."

"Then behave like it," Bayard said. "Give Drea and me your blessing."

"Blessing? For what? She's below your station. Which puts you in the same predicament as me," Alvarr laughed. "You can't possibly be giving her an engagement."

"I'm giving her a promise," Bayard replied vehemently. "A promise that once I've inherited the estate or earned enough money to live independently I'll marry her."

"Why?"

"Because she is what's most precious to me. You just don't get it Alvarr."

"I do now," Alvarr murmured, his face painted with shock that Bayard would rather be disowned and disinherited than lose to love of a destitute maid. "I wish the two of you well."

With a hearty handshake that ended in a manly embrace of love and brotherhood, Alvarr and Bayard ended their feud.

"I need to speak with your uncle. It's important," Bayard said as they made their way to the embassy.

"Uncle Cenred is busy right now," Alvarr informed him.

"You don't understand," Bayard insisted. "At your party I saw his sister hanging all over Duke Cedric."

"What's wrong with that?" Alvarr shrugged. "Duke Cedric has power and means. He seems to be in love with Ladonna. Their union would be the start of good relations between England and France."

Bayard shook his head vehemently, "Back when my parents owned slaves Duke Cedric stayed as an honored guest in our home. He took a fancy to a particular slave woman named Sally and offered my father an outrageous price to buy her freedom. This slave was my father's niece so some part of him wanted a good life for her. Father sold the girl to Cedric with the understanding that Cedric would take care of her. Father ran into Sally in the market place one morning. She was missing the pinky and ring fingers of her left hand. She confessed that Cedric had mutilated her hand and kept her fingers as trophies. Cedric raped and abused her every opportunity he had. My father was sick to his stomach at the thought of what had become of his niece. He immediately raced to Magistrate Uther Pendragon begging to regain custody. Uther informed him that Sally was the rightful property of Cedric and there was nothing he could do. Father never owned another slave after that. Any person working for us is now paid and free to come and go as they see fit."

All the color drained from Alvarr's face, "Whatever happened to the girl?"

"I don't know," Bayard solemnly admitted. "Father never saw her again after that day in the market place."

"Duke Cedric is asking Uncle Cenred for Ladonna's hand as we speak!" Alvarr shouted.

Bayard gasped. "You have to stop him from marrying his sister off to a lunatic!"

"After all the grief I've given him and Katrina over my betrothal Uncle Cenred won't listen to me," Alvarr explained. "If any part of you is still my friend you will stop my uncle from making the biggest mistake of his life!"

Bayard raced full speed ahead. Far across the courtyard Ladonna was sitting at a table shaded by a large oak. She affectionately held the hand of her beau, while Duke Cedric tried to convince Cenred to allow him to take his half sister as a kept woman. With Ladonna being a mulatto she and Cedric couldn't marry legally in American but with her brother's blessing they could still live in a marriage like state.

"Count Cenred!" Bayard yelled.

Cenred whipped around. Armed guards immediately drew an arsenal of pistols and rifles on the young man rushing in the direction of the two noblemen.

"You may lower your weapons," Cenred informed his body guards and told Cedric and Ladonna. "Boorish Americans wouldn't know proper etiquette if it bit them in the rear. Give me just a moment."

"Of course brother," Ladonna chimed happily and Cenred smiled at the revelation that she was no longer cross with him.

Cenred stomped over to Bayard and gripped the back of the teenager's neck, "Are you crazy or just plain stupid! My guards would have turned you into a colander! Why on earth would you disrupt a meeting between noblemen?"

"Duke Cedric only wants your sister because she's black and in America she has no rights," Bayard whisper-yelled. "Cedric could beat, rape, torture, or even murder Ladonna with impunity Sir."

Count Cenred released the young man with a confused expression and Bayard rambled frantically with flailing arms. Cenred stood disgusted, appalled and a bit horrified. The nobleman wasn't sure if he should believe the rambling of a teenage boy below his station but Cenred was not about to put his sister at risk without doing a little investigating.

"Merci" Cenred nodded to Bayard with a distraught expression.

"Je vous en prie," Bayard respectfully replied.

Bayard couldn't understand their conversation. His French wasn't very good but as he watched he could gather what was happening. Ladonna grew so furious and hurt for a brief moment Bayard thought the tiny black woman might beat her brother senseless. Ladonna screamed a few more lines of French before picking up her heavy skirts and running away with tears streaming down her honey colored cheeks.

Duke Cedric sauntered over to Bayard without once abandoning his regal demeanor. The Nobleman snarled, "Count Cenred is forcing me to produce the slave girl I purchased from you before he will allow me to have his sister!"

"Then I'd suggest you go get her," Bayard replied in an equally nasty tone without giving a damn about Cedric's fancy title or prestigious family name.

"I don't have her!" Cedric snapped in a low enough tone to be heard by just the two of them. "Sally seduced me and swore she was in love with me. She used me to buy her freedom and then she left me the moment she received her papers."

"What you did broke my father's very spirit. You may be able to fool Ladonna with these lies because she loves you, but I don't believe you for a second," Bayard scowled.

"Well you better believe this," Cedric growled. "I will take what is most precious to you and I will destroy it."

An icy shiver trickled down Bayard's neck and he shook it off with a tremor, "I'll hang for your murder before I ever allow you to harm Drea!"

Cedric laughed without humor and gathered his guards. He climbed in his coach. They took off like lightening kicking up an enormous cloud of dust.

"Thanks again," Count Cenred said as he walked up. "Would you like to stay for dinner young man?"

"I'm so sorry Count Cenred," Bayard spoke frantically as he rushed off to the stables for his steed. "I have to check on my lady!"

Bayard rode at the speed of light. He reached his mansion in record time. He raced to the kitchen and swept Drea into his arms, tears of happiness pooling in his eyes at the revelation that she was okay.

"Bayard!" She freed herself. "It's the middle of the day people will see!"

"I don't care," He embraced her once more for even longer this time, "I love you Drea."

Tears filled her eyes with his heartfelt admission and the stony walls she built around her heart came crumbling down at last, "I love you too but why are you acting like this? What's happened?"

Bayard confessed, "A very bad man threatened what was most precious to me and I had to make certain you were alright. Duke Cedric has a vendetta."

"Bayard," She placed her soft hand on his cheek. "I thank God that you love me just as I love you. But we both know that I am not what's most precious to you."

All the color drained from Bayard's face and he grew sick to his stomach, "Oh God that psychopath is after Mithian…"

Bayard kissed Drea and demanded she be cautious and avoid strangers then he galloped in the direction of the docks.

xXx

Bayard arrived at the bustling port. He jumped off of his horse. Ran to the end of the dock but he was too late. The enormous ship was sailing away with Mithian. Duke Cedric gave him a triumphant salute with one hand while the other hand lay wrapped around Mithian's waist. Bayard noticed a dazed expression on Mithian's face, a glossy unblinking stare. Cedric craned his neck to place his slithering lips upon the neck of the innocent thirteen year old girl. When Mithian didn't even fight it Bayard had a horrifying revelation. _Mithian's under a love spell! She would never allow this otherwise!_

A satisfied evil smirk braced Cedric's lips as he held the young Nemeth girl in his arms. The vile Cedric swept young Mithian into a kiss that made all watching feel as if they were intruding on their privacy. Bayard grew nauseous screaming obscenities and threats that fell on deaf ears.

"Mithian wake up!" Bayard screamed in anguish falling to his knees on the cold wet boards of the busy dock.

Would Cedric maim her, rape her, kill her? Every horrible and frightening scenario raced through Bayard's mind. His little sister stood within the clutches of a mad man and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it...


	4. The Ambassador's Wife

_Three Years Later…_

The Ambassador's Wife

Beneath a starry sky Duchess Mithian twirled a single thin braid around her finger as she stood upon her spacious stone balcony. The sixteen year old noblewoman gazed longingly over the rolling green hills of her vast estate. Her husband furnished her with everything a woman could ever want and yet she still found herself wondering what ever happened to the boy whose lock of hair she cherished. Did Leon marry? Was he happy? She never wrote him. She saw no point. What would she say?

After just one measly glass of wine she woke up married to Duke Cedric, her virginity taken at some point in the night. No one gets drunk that quickly! Her brother Bayard hated her husband. Bayard even suggested that she may have been drugged or even enchanted. But Cedric had always been so doting and attentive she dared not believe such outlandish claims. To this day she could not explain her reasoning for being wed to a near stranger on that ship but she was not about to make her husband suffer for her bad judgment. She committed fully to her unplanned marriage and grew to love her husband in time but she would never feel for Cedric the way she felt when she hugged that boy with the sandy brown curls…

xXx

Leon graduated top of his class from West Point and now proudly served as First Lieutenant of the United States Army. At a mere eighteen summers he was the youngest to ever receive this rank. He often had peculiar vivid dreams of fighting at the right hand of a king, dreams of being a chivalrous knight during a time of dragons and magic. Going to the most prestigious military academy in the land just seemed the next logical step for a man with the heart of a knight. And this week his commanding officer had ordered him and a small cavalry of soldiers to ride out to the lands of the Cherokee. Leon had been told he was needed to negotiate with the native indigenous people but when he arrived all he saw was a myriad of distraught faces glowing by firelight. There were hundreds of horses corralled as far as the eye could see and the Indians were weeping and praying in their native tongue. It was the dead of night and not an eye was sleeping. Leon dismounted his steed with a discombobulated expression. He couldn't wait to receive his orders so he could put the Cherokee people at ease. He spotted what could only be his captain's tent and marched over without hesitation. A lower ranking officer saluted Leon and showed him in.

Leon gave a staunch salute and formally addressed his commanding officer, "First Lt. Leon Arrington reporting for duty Sir!"

Captain Sarrum looked him over as if studying him, "At ease soldier." Leon's stately stance loosened a little but not much and the captain went on to say. "I requested headquarters to send me the best of the best, one who knows the Cherokee language and will follow even the toughest orders."

"Eye captain," Leon assured as he awaited instructions. _What does he mean by tough orders? What the hell are we doing here?_

"I need you to organize the troops and open fire on the wild mustangs. Kill every mare, stud, and yearling in the corrals."

Leon had to bite his lip in order to keep from gasping, "Requesting permission to speak freely sir."

"Permission granted," Sarrum said as he removed his wide brimmed hat and sat it upon the desk baring his balding wrinkled head.

Leon drew in a deep breath, "With all due respect sir, the indigenous peoples depend heavily on these wild horses. Shooting hundreds of them will weaken the Cherokee Nation... It will weaken many Indian nations."

"Precisely," Sarrum grinned wickedly. "You have your orders. Organize the troops at sunrise and kill the mustangs Lieutenant."

"Sir yes Sir!" With another firm salute Leon left to set up camp with his troops.

He'd never disobeyed a direct order before but could he actually go through with this heinous plan? As the men congregated amongst themselves singing and telling stories without a care in the world, Leon walked away to clear his head. I a matter of hours he would have to give the toughest orders he'd ever had to issue: heartlessly destroy hundreds of beautiful animals and devastate a nation of people in doing so. He ceased when he saw an Indian girl of ten or eleven feeding an apple to a beautiful spotted yearling.

"I take it he's your horse," Leon asked the girl in her language.

"He's my friend," The child replied gazing up at Leon with large innocent eyes. "His name is Spirit." She told Leon in her native tongue.

"He's a magnificent creature."

"You should see him run. It's as if the whole world stands still," She smiled softly up at the soldier. "Do you like horses?"

"I love them," Leon choked up at the memory of having to shoot his first horse when the steed was injured beyond recovery. And now he had to shoot hundreds of horses for no other reason than political greed over territories.

They both looked up at the sound of the girl's mother calling her; frantically beckoning the child away from the pale skinned devil. White men had caused their people misery for centuries and now they were here to wreak more death and misery.

The girl called back over her shoulder as her raven locks whipped in the night air, "Please save my Spirit Mr. Soldier."

Leon fell silent. He had to kill that child's horse and with it the economic stability of her people. He could stand it no more. He ran along the gates of the corals snatching the pins out. He flung open the barricades. Sent the horses stampeding free. Soldiers came charging from their camp. With Captain Sarrum's orders they opened fire on the scattering animals but it was hard to strike such rapidly moving targets in the dead of night. Very few horses were killed. The Indians cheered and embraced one another. They praised the spirits as well as this peculiar and goodhearted white man, Lt. Leon.

The furious Sarrum lined up a row of Indian men demanding to know who freed the mustangs. They stood strong and silent even when violently struck. They were a hard people to break. Sarrum gave up. Either they truly didn't know or he'd never get them to talk. This interrogation was useless. Leon breathed a sigh of relief and silently thanked a man he knew had seen him. The man wiped the spot of blood from his lip and smiled at Leon. With no horses to shoot the soldiers would be forced to move on.

Leon's relief was short lived as a brownnosing little twerp named George jogged over snitching to the captain. Before Leon could draw in a breath to plead his case he was cracked in the back of the head with the butt of a rifle and taken prisoner. At the tender age of eighteen his military career was over before it had begun, and he would likely do prison time for the offense. As Leon faded into unconsciousness his only comfort came from the vision of beautiful girl he once braced with a hug and a lock of his sandy brown hair. He had heard she was married now and he planned to never see her again but the funny thing about plans is that destiny can pull them off course…


End file.
